


eat your shame

by rospeaks



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Glory Hole, M/M, Public Sex, Voyeurism, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 13:10:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11692326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rospeaks/pseuds/rospeaks
Summary: Credence had first noticed him coming out of an alley -- noticed because it had just been a little odd. Men like him didn't come out of alleys. They walked down the streets with their shoulders back and their boots shined fit to be a mirror. They stepped out of glinting new cars and acted like they owned the streets they drove down. They didn't move like Graves did.They never noticed Credence.





	eat your shame

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writingramblr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/gifts).



> YOOOOO this is a belated gift for Writingramblr's birthday! Sorry that it took me a while to write this, but I hope that the end result is something you like!

Credence didn't know when the idea had taken root in his mind. It hadn't appealed to him when he was a kid but preaching the word of God took him to some pretty unsavory places. He'd seen things. He'd _watched_ things.

He supposed, if he had to guess, it had to be when his ma had sent him across town to the docks. It had been a lot of migrant workers, transients, people he would see one week and then never again. They were a faithful folk -- probably not what ma had expected -- and there were a lot of big, burly men listening attentively to his memorized sermons, nodding along when he echoed his ma's diatribe about the dangers of witches and the magic of new technologies.

The whole area stank.

The thick rolling scent of garbage and river muck rose with the summer heat, but worse was the alleys. The workers were busted for every second of the work day, and so when it came time for a bathroom break, they'd just as soon drop trou behind a dumpster than wait in line for something cleaner. So the alleys were the worst -- ground slick with grime, a thin acrid scent seeming to cover every surface -- and the impression it left stuck in Credence's nose, in his hair, on his clothes. After going there every day for a whole summer, Credence thought he would never get the smell of it out of his system, but he continued to visit every day just because.... the workers were nice. They didn't even particularly mind when he was around just to talk, instead of preaching, and his ma never had to know.

Or maybe it wasn't quite then, but later that fall, when he'd caught two people in those alleys that stank so bad. Two men that he knew even, one man stroking his cock against the cheek of a second man who was kneeling in the grit.

"Not on the clothes," said the one who was kneeling.

"Yeah yeah," replied his companion. "Come on, just swallow it and then you'll get your treat.

Credence waited silently behind one of the dumpsters for them to finish. He wasn't ignorant of the kinds of things that happened on the streets of New York, but ma always accompanied his sisters when it was time to go preaching to prostitutes, just in case one or both of them was tempted into selling themselves into sin. She hadn't worried about Credence doing the same, but maybe she should have because Credence listened avidly to the sound of a cock being sucked and choked on.

He couldn't quite see the appeal of having a cock in his own mouth. He disliked the feeling of gagging, but he'd touched himself in secret often enough to know that he liked it. He watched as one of the men shoved his cock forward in a few quick thrusts that had the other man's moans getting cut off in sharp seizes. Credence palmed the front of his pants, wondering what that would feel like, if it would hurt to have someone's throat closing down on his cock.

"Yeah, take it, fucking slut," grunted the first man. He had his hand fisted in the other's hair. "Shit, your mouth is tight."

Credence tipped his head back with a sigh, wondering if he should just find another path home. But he wasn't in a rush to return and now he was hard, so he gave up and tucked his hand inside his pants to squeeze his cock to the rhythm of the sounds around him. He started to breathe more heavily, the longer he continued to touch himself. Illicit thrills tightened around his spine. The dirty stink of the air around him filled his lungs. It wasn't enough to stop him. In fact, it felt right. He was dirty and sinful and this was how he deserved to find his pleasure. Amidst the filth and rats and--

A hard groan jerked Credence back to the present. The man on his knees coughed and spat on the ground, but his job wasn't done apparently because he got yanked upright once more. He rose high up on his knees, appearing eager in a way that he hadn't before. His mouth was open wide. His tongue was stuck out as far as it could go.

It was hard for Credence to discern what was happening at first. The first man was holding his cock upright but wasn't stroking it. He tapped it lightly on the tip of the other man's tongue, widened his stance, and then seemed to relax, hips rocked forward and shoulders slumped. It was only a few seconds after the second man started to moan breathlessly that a breeze brought the smell of piss to Credence's nose -- fresher and sharper than anything offered by their surroundings -- and with a stifled gasp, Credence spilled into his pants.

For a long time after that, Credence couldn't shake the acrid scent of urine out of nose whenever he tried to masturbate. And even after that phantom sense passed, it wasn't the same. Credence couldn't get the same excitement that he'd had from watching someone so eager for the act of being pissed on.

And then he met Graves.

Graves, who was as well dressed and fine as any banker or reporter that Credence had ever laid eyes on. His coat was embroidered, and his hair, neatly combed back. Credence had first noticed him coming out of an alley -- noticed because it had just been a little odd. Men like him didn't come out of alleys. They walked down the streets with their shoulders back and their boots shined fit to be a mirror. They stepped out of glinting new cars and acted like they owned the streets they drove down. They didn't move like Graves did.

They never noticed Credence.

Coat flaring behind him, Graves walked past Credence with a quick assessing glance and a little smirk before he trotted down the steps toward a speakeasy. Credence followed only a half step behind, curious even though they had never spoken a word to each other before. He left his pamphlets abandoned on the ground.

The speakeasy was a raucous place at all hours of the day and usually full of strange looking people, whose eyes he avoided. There was drinking in all corners. After passing his coat and scarf to the greeter, Graves glided past them without speaking and went to the bar for a drink. Credence was too far to hear the name, but the drink poured for him was golden and topped with a layer of white cream. Turning his back to the bartender, Graves looked around the room and then raised the drink toward Credence before tipping the whole thing back with a faint grimace. A bit of cream was stuck at the corner of his mouth when he finished. Graves dragged his thumb against his mouth, sucked it clean with a sharp smile, and then turned to disappear to the back of the building.

Credence waited and waited for Graves to reappear, but even half an hour later, Graves did not. A handful of others had followed Graves and returned already. Credence started to fret a little. Graves was so beautiful and the way he'd swallowed his drink had been just arrogant enough, Credence thought, that maybe they had done something to him.

Credence wasn't sure what finally spurred him to move. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was worry. It could have been something more intimately primal.

The room around him was full of sound, but all of it felt distant and separate as Credence stumbled forward, prying his way through the crowd. Then, before he knew it, he was leaning against the wall of a rear hallway. A wooden door was at the end. A pane of frosted glass was fitted inside it, written over by _Restroom_ in a stylized curving font.

As Credence stared, the door swung open and a few men stepped out together, laughing and nudging each other. They were talking loudly and leering about something, but Credence barely bothered to make out the words. There were no other doors back here. Graves could have gone nowhere else, so Credence took a step forward and then another until he was past the door. Another man was washing his hands in the sink and he smirked at Credence in the mirror.

"First time?" he asked.

Not understanding, Credence figured it was safe to nod.

"The last stall is his for the night," the man said as he moved past Credence toward the exit. He gestured vaguely to the only other stall. "Just stick your cock through the hole and he'll take good care of you."

The hole in question, when Credence found it, was a generous three inches in diameter with a smoothly polished edge. It broke through the wooden paneling that partitioned the two bathroom stalls, allowing a narrow breach in their privacy. Apparently people stuck their cock through it. Credence couldn't immediately understand why until Graves' fingers dragged invitingly along the edge and beckoned.

Credence's shoes slid on the wet floor. The tiles were shiny in the too bright light, and just under the partition, Credence could see the towel Graves had put on the floor to cushion his knees and the sharply ironed line that marked the front of each pant leg. Well cared for. Attended to with military precision. Even the fingers that were reaching for him had clean nails, trimmed short, and soft looking skin without calluses.

A part of him hated Graves on sight -- his fancy clothes, his strut, every inch of appearing to be like the many men who dismissed Credence out of turn -- but another part was drawn to him, wanting to see what had made Graves notice him at all when normally he wasn't granted so much as a glance. He wanted to pick Graves apart. He wanted to see the carefully tailored lines of his pants ruined by his arousal, their crisp linen stained by come and dirt and--

Credence stepped close enough to let Graves' fingers brush against the front of his pants. The noise that Graves made on the other side of the wall sounded eager, excited. He had Credence's pants undone so quickly that he half suspected magic to have been involved. He suppressed a terrified shiver and leaned against the partition for support, hips thrust forward to get his crotch close to the hole.

Graves could not quite fit his hand through. His knuckles were thick enough to prevent him, but his longing showed in how hard he tried to reach for Credence anyway. His fingers were exceptionally warm as they pulled down Credence's underwear and then guided his half hard cock through the gap.

It was, Credence decided, warmer than he'd even imagined, having someone's mouth around his cock. The slick insides of Graves' cheeks adhered to Credence's length whenever he sucked and pulled off, and Credence gasped, near silently, as he pressed as close to the wall as he could. Graves chuckled at how quickly Credence hardened fully, but any humiliation was softened by the suckling wet kiss that Graves gave the tip.

Credence would have felt ashamed by how desperate he suddenly was to get Graves' mouth back on him, by how much he wished there was no wall to separate them so he could dig his fingers into his hair -- but no sooner had the urge occurred to him than Graves granted his wish. He swallowed Credence down as far as he could without choking, lips just barely visible to Credence and struggling to take more in. Graves' throat was clenched tightly against intrusion, throbbing and flexing against his tip.

Credence groaned. "You don't...  you don't have to..." He broke off with a whine when Graves hummed around him. His hips jerked forward abruptly, slamming against the partition so hard that the flimsy locks on the stall doors rattled.

Graves tongued at his length as he pulled off again. "But I want to," he said. His voice was rough. "Especially to this cock."

Credence quivered, reaching up to hook his fingers over the top edge of the wall. He had a feeling he'd need it. "Oh?" he stammered.

Graves hummed again, hand stroking Credence to keep him hard. "I've seen this cock before. Gorgeous thing. Biggest I'd seen in a long time. In the hands of this kid, who was stroking it off to some guy getting pissed on."

Freezing with realization, Credence felt himself go hot from the memory alone. If he'd turned around that day, he wondered, would he have seen Graves in the mouth of the alleyway, watching him? How long had he been there? Would he have knelt then as he was now, dirtying his pants on the alley's grimey ground in order to take Credence in his mouth?

"Fuck," Credence hissed, whimpering when Graves tongued at his slit.

Graves took him back into the hot cavern of his mouth again, sucked him until Credence's thighs were trembling and his breath was coming in short bursts around hurt noises. His tongue traced wicked lines over Credence's skin. His throat opened once around the end of his length and then closed down around it so hard that Graves actually choked afterward, suckling at the saliva that had spilled down his chin.

Graves stopped to catch his breath, but kept his hand around Credence like he wanted to be sure he wouldn't leave. Then he said -- quietly, like he was sharing a secret, "You wanna piss on me?"

Credence swallowed past the rock of anxiety that lodged itself in his throat. Did he?

"I--"

His voice croaked. Another laugh licked at Credence's cock.

"That sounds like a yes."

Credence jerked back when he heard a latch unlock, back hitting the far wall. He looked down. Graves' knees were no longer visible on the towel, but his shoes were -- black, glossy things that _tap tap tapped_ as they made their way to the door of Credence's stall. It was only when Graves gave the door a push that Credence realized that he'd failed to lock it.

Graves took up the whole of the doorway, imposing in a way that he hadn't been from a distance. Even with his coat and scarf gone, he was the very picture of well-contained power -- the strength of his body strapped into a pinstriped vest. The only sign that he'd even been sucking cocks this evening was the slight redness of his mouth and the flush of his throat above his open collar. Credence felt small in his presence -- foolish, verging on humiliated, frightened even...

With the same smirking smile that had drawn Credence in, Graves took hold of Credence's still-hard cock and stroked it a few times with a harsh palm. "We're going to have to get rid of this then, aren't we?" he said.

...and then Graves dropped to his knees again.

No towel to protect him this time. Just hard tile meeting bone and dark eyes lifting to look at Credence's face as Graves mouthed at the underside of his cock.

Credence shook. The difference that a lack of separation made was palpable. He could _see_ now how much Graves liked sucking his cock -- how dark his eyes had become, how his lashes dipped in pleasure, how he opened his mouth without hesitation. Credence could even touch now, if he wanted -- and he did. He pushed his fingers through Graves hair and stroked his thumb over the hollowing of Graves' cheeks, marveling. He felt greedy with it, but Graves seemed to preen under the touches, flushing pink across his cheekbones and moaning when Credence tugged at his hair.

And it wasn't simply that Graves was there and immediately accessible. It was that he touched back. He turned into Credence's caresses. He leaned his forehead against Credence's hip when he needed to catch his breath. His hands -- so large and capable looking -- gripped Credence's thighs and pushed up under his shirt to caress his stomach.

As for himself, Graves was ruthless. His position might have eased Credence's anxiety -- it was difficult to be afraid of someone on their knees -- but his actions were entirely overwhelming. Graves' mouth was like sin itself around him. He sucked like he was trying to draw out Credence's soul. He licked and gagged and he dragged his teeth around the root of him until Credence's knees were shaking. His tongue teased at his slit while his hand stroked Credence's length, and his dark eyes narrowed in with a sharp focus.

Credence didn't have a chance, really. He folded over Graves helplessly, grabbing at his shoulders and bracing his arm against the stall's wall for support. He bit his lip to stifle the moan, but the whimpering remained as he striped come across Graves' tongue. With satisfaction written all over his face, Graves kissed his cock, swallowing down the fat load of spunk before Credence could even think of giving the man room to spit it into the toilet. Just the sight of his throat bobbing made Credence almost hard again, but he was quickly denied that too. While he was licking Credence clean with a gentle tongue, Graves' hand was clasped firmly around the base of Credence's cock -- just strong enough to be a little painful, to keep another erection away.

"You don't have to do this--" Credence tried to say, though it came out as a pathetic whine instead.

Graves slid one hand under Credence's shirt, palming his chest, and then smiled, all teeth, before taking Credence back into his mouth again. Credence nearly groaned at the thought of hardening again so soon, but Graves didn't suck him. He simply held him there, slowly softening altogether in that warm, wet mouth.

Now Credence squirmed for a wholly different reason. Graves was so still, not moving an inch except to accommodate the shifting of Credence's hips. His mouth remained this pleasant place for Credence's cock to rest, and his eyes gleamed as they stared up at Credence, gaze predatory and patient and _waiting_.

"I don't--" Credence's voice croaked again, and he licked his dry lips. "I can't--"

Graves hummed, making Credence jerk a little, and then the hand that had dived under Credence's shirt started to slide down. Withdrawing in disappointment, Credence thought, shortly before it stopped low on his belly and pressed.

He didn't have to press very hard before Credence started to feel the tightness building up. He hadn't given it any thought before. It was pretty typical of him to hold off using the bathroom for as long as he could, and a desperate search through his memory revealed that it had been hours since he'd last relieved himself.

Credence tried to clench his thighs together, instinctively fighting against the urge to piss. HIs feet hit either side of Graves' knees and stopped, and then Graves slowly pushed his knees apart, forcing Credence to do the same. Credence grabbed at Graves' wrist to pull his hand away, but Graves just pushed his fingers in and down.

He was shaking all over again when he gave up on trying to make Graves stop and tried to embrace the reality that Graves was going to make him piss into his mouth. It seemed like the worst kind of humiliation, and Credence couldn't help himself from trying to prevent it, even when he knew it was impossible.

It was torture. It was bliss. Heat tightened inside him. Sweat broke out on the back of Credence's neck. Graves' mouth was so very very warm that Credence didn't even notice when his control began to crack.

But Graves noticed. When the first trickle of piss managed to leak out across his tongue, he moaned and began suckling softly at Credence's cock -- not enough to get him hard, but enough to encourage more of that sharp tasting urine. Credence was pretty sure he sobbed when he realized, and by then the trickle had turned into a flood, and piss was spilling out of Graves' mouth to slide down his chin and throat and into his clothes.

Graves' expression was blissed out. The sigh after he swallowed, almost exhaultant. When Credence blinked past his tears, the hand that had been around Credence's cock was sneaking downward to squeeze between Graves' legs, where a dark stain was spreading slowly.

"Fuck," Credence breathed, unable to look away. "I can't believe-- You really liked that?"

Graves smiled a little as he started to tuck Credence back into his pants, seeming to suddenly turn shy without a cock in his mouth. It was, Credence reasoned, probably why he preferred to have a thin wall between him and the men he serviced. It made Credence wonder why Graves had changed the rules just this once, but he didn't dare ask.

Instead he just rubbed his thumb over Graves' jawline in a sad attempt to clean Graves up in return. His skin was slick and faintly tacky to the touch. Cleaning him entirely was a hopeless cause, and when Graves rose silently to his feet, Credence could see the full damage. Graves was wet all down the front of his clothes, the white collar of his shirt stained a pale yellow.

Credence's hand faltered halfway toward touching that collar. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have. I made a mess of your clothes."

"Nonsense," Graves told him. Goodness, his voice sounded rough from use. Credence felt even more miserable at the sound of it, but when Credence stared at the ground, Graves tipped his chin up to look him in the eye. "You were very good, my boy."

"Good?" Credence echoed disbelievingly.

Graves smiled. "Oh yes."

Credence blinked hopefully. "Does that mean... I can come back here again?"

At this, Graves' lashes dipped low and seductive. His mouth curled into a sly smile. "My dear boy, I would look forward to it.


End file.
